


Let Me Be Good For You

by onlyhuman



Series: the rimming adventures [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Butt Dialing, Canon Compliant, Clubbing, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Grinding, M/M, On the Road Again Tour, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, There's shade on update accounts because that's the way I roll, Though Liam isn't in this as much as he's supposed to be because I'm still a little bitter sorry, Top Louis, is the point I was trying to make, it's Niall's birthday and EVERYONE is there (not just Louis), or well semi-public, though in this series Louis will bottom at some point as well because I really don't care, though there's always more plot than I'd initially planned lmao idek anymore guys I'm sorry, very light though I'm new to this don't kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhuman/pseuds/onlyhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.</i>
</p><p>Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Be Good For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haroldtbh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldtbh/gifts).



> Okay. So. Um. Oops?
> 
> Harry's black sheer shirt and Selena Gomez' song Good For You inspired this. I'm not even sorry. In case you were wondering or have been living under a blissfully ignorant rock, [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BuAsma2CAAAE27D.jpg) is the shirt I'm talking about. It's been too long since he's been seen in this. I'm counting on you, Harry.
> 
> Anyway, this is a gift for Amber C (who else, really), who forcibly introduced me to Selena Gomez and this god forsaken song until everything just escalated from there. As always. Absolutely no one is surprised by this turn of events.
> 
> This is unbeta-ed because I just wanted to get it out there asap. I'm supposed to finish a WIP, but this happened instead because it hasn't been able to leave my brain and I'm only human (literally, ha). It was also supposed to be a 3K PWP fic at most... Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to lol. 
> 
> As you're reading this and get to the part where Louis and Harry are left alone, I suggest you listen to Good For You, just to find yourself in the same mood as they are. I hope you get as fucked up over it as Amber and I did.
> 
> Oh, and: Louis and Harry don't use a condom in this fic because they're in an established relationship and are responsible adults. Be safe, kids!

The last show of the North American tour wasn’t supposed to be this draining, Louis thinks. He’s scrolling through Twitter, checking what the fans think they know this time around, and scoffs under his breath at what he finds.

According to the update accounts he’s been secretly sneaking glances at, he’s supposed to be riding the bus to Boston from NYC _right now_ whilst the rest of his band is taking the short road and going by plane. How anyone believes that kind of nonsense is beyond him, but it works out in their favour, he guesses. If these rumours weren’t there, he wouldn’t have been able to fly with his boy in the first place. It’s worth it. Probably.

Louis spares a glance next to him and lands his eyes on Harry, who’s snoozing against the window of their private jet with his feet placed firmly into Louis’ lap. A scrabble board lies abandoned on the table in front of them and Louis can’t stop the quiet laugh that escapes from his lips. Honestly. If Twitter ever found out about any of this without any advanced careful planning, the world would absolutely burn to ashes.

Sometimes he really wants the burning to commence already.

Louis still can’t believe that anyone even cares about this kind of thing in the first place, but it’s been a ridiculous five years anyway. Absolutely crazy and amazing and wonderful, but ridiculous all the same. The biggest gift he could have gotten out of this is next to him, however.

Harry snuffles in his sleep, hair falling out of his bun down the back of his neck as he moves. Louis is absolutely enthralled by him.

“Tommo,” Niall rudely interrupts his focus, and Louis looks up, eyebrows raised in question. He’s momentarily distracted by Harry’s knee bumping against his own, warmth spreading all through him at the touch. After five years, he should probably not feel that thrill of energy surging through him every time Harry touches him, but it’s like nothing has changed at all since the moment they first laid eyes on each other.

To be fair, absolutely _everything_ has changed, but none of it matters when there’s this beautiful overgrown boy-man sleeping next to him who belongs to Louis and Louis only. It’s the absolute best feeling in the world. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Hm?” He’s aware of the left-over fond shining through the tone of his voice, admiration practically written across his face, but he can’t help himself. Niall shakes his head, almost in disgust, and rolls his eyes at him. Louis just stares at him in return, waiting for whatever he has to say. If he knows Niall at all, which he does, thanks, it’s gonna have to do with his birthday happening in less than twelve hours.

“We’re going out tonight, yeah?” Niall asks, eyes shining bright. Louis perches up, smirking to himself, and reaches out to pat him on the knee. On Niall’s other side, Liam does the same as he stifles a yawn, eyes drooping closed.

“Of course. ‘S your birthday, innit? It’s gonna be mental,” he reassures him, because the timing could absolutely not be better. It’s the last show of this leg of the tour, meaning they’ll still be hyped up on adrenaline from performing, and they’re due for a twelve day break after this as they head back to the UK. They’re gonna have all the time in the world to recover from whatever this night is going to be.

A good night’s sleep has been something Louis hasn’t had enough of for years now, but he has a feeling that he’s gonna need this recovery period even more than he usually does.

~*~

The show was _crazy,_ exciting and most of all, _wet._ Most of it has dried by now, but Louis can feel his shirt still sticking to his skin, wet with rain and sweat and water.

The four of them bundle up backstage after the show, dashing off the stage and towards their dressing rooms. Louis grabs a bottle of water from the table and puts it to his lips, cold liquid pouring down his throat as Harry flops down on the couch, feet kicking up in the air.

He’s still buzzing from the energy the crowd had given them - it had a lot to do with their upcoming break, he can see that, sure. There was also Niall’s birthday in a few hours, however, along with the rainbow project the fans had set up, and now he’s flooded with too many emotions all at once.  All of them are feeling a bit overwhelmed, emotional at the way the night had turned out.

He can’t be bothered to feel any shame. Hell, he’d even mentioned it on stage to the fans (and with that, the entire internet and the rest of the world). With everyone coming together to congratulate Niall _and_ making sure the 1D shows were a safe space for _everyone,_ he’s overcome with love for this life and their fans.

The end of this tour is looming over their heads, is the thing. They’re all excited, of course, to have some time off after their album comes out, knowing something the fans don’t - that it all gets better from here on out. They’ll finally be able to breathe. They’ll be _free._

Still, it felt like a goodbye. Maybe it was, at least for a little while. If they initiated a group hug twice tonight, nobody can really blame them, Louis thinks.

“That first onstage hug was a bit intense, wasn’t it?” Harry smirks from his sprawled out position on the couch, seemingly reading his mind. Not that it’s the the first time. Louis tears the bottle away from his lips and swallows quickly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“‘T was a birthday hug,” he grins smugly and stalks over to the couch, sitting himself down next to Harry’s face resting low on the cushions. Momentarily distracted, he runs a hand through Harry’s hair. The strands are damp with sweat and rain, his fingers wet with the touch. “‘S allowed to be a bit intense.”

“Oh, please. The way you were clinging on to me had fuck all to do with Nialler’s birthday,” Harry quips immediately. Louis gasps in mock-offense and grabs a singular strand of hair. He tugs it hard in retaliation, winding the curls around his fingers, and a soft moan escapes from Harry’s lips, eyes slipping shut.

Something stirs in Louis’ gut.

“It was calming,” he gets out, voice hoarse. He’s barely aware of the words that are coming out of his mouth, enthralled by the way Harry’s turning breathless. He leans in closer, breath ghosting over Harry’s face as he takes him in, noticing how his eyelashes are fluttering, cheeks pinkening up just slightly.

God, he’s still so gone for this boy, can feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He actually feels a bit dizzy with it, breathless just at being in such close proximity of him.

“Calming enough to be all over the internet, probably.” Harry’s eyes are still shut as he speaks, a grin curling around his lips. Louis wants to shut him up desperately, kiss him senseless and transfer the buzzing energy he can feel surging through his veins. Not one to fight his instincts, he does. Harry’s lips open up for him immediately and beautifully, tingling against the cold of his own lips. The hand that is not wrapped up in Harry’s hair trails down his black t-shirt, still a bit damp but warm nonetheless, making it just the tiniest bit see-through, which, _oh_.

He goes absolutely mad for it, and Harry knows it, tugging on the fabric so it clings tighter to his chest. Louis can feel the material stretch beneath the palm of his hand as Harry’s tongue slips into his mouth, teasingly soft and not at all urgent enough, not at all where Louis _wants_ this to go. He sighs into the kiss and lets his fingers run over Harry’s nipples, pulling them taut beneath his shirt.

“Oi, lads, break it off!”

Louis can hear Niall and Liam pile into the dressing room, bodyguards probably sternly following on their trail, but he refuses to stop kissing Harry, tongueing him a bit harder as a statement. His hand slips downwards to Harry’s lap, waiting to see if he’s twitching in his pants, if his dick has stiffened at all during all of this, but he can’t take it any further as Niall unceremoniously plops himself down on Harry’s legs, effectively making Louis draw back his hand to himself.

Harry lets out a yelp, ripping his mouth away from Louis’, and slaps Niall on the head.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks with a frown. Niall nods in enthusiasm, pointedly staring at Louis’ hand like it’s committed a disgusting crime. Disgusting is probably not the word Louis would have picked, but okay, fine. He gets it. He can keep his hands to himself. For now.

It’s a testament to how long they’ve known each other that Louis knows what’s going to happen before Niall even opens his mouth to say anything.  It’s bound to be a ridiculous plan, and he’s all for it.

“Wanna go to Vegas with you lot,” Niall slurs, burying his face in Harry’s thigh, inches away from where he’s hard in his pants, and, yes, okay. There it is. He’s aching to reenact last year. Partying in Boston just doesn’t cut it anymore, apparently, isn’t dramatic enough for one of the biggest popstars in the world. Honestly, Louis can relate.

“Tonight?” Liam says doubtfully. “I thought we’d just go out here in Boston? I, erm, promised to meet up with Andy in LA tomorrow.”

“C’mon Payno, if you go with, LA is only an hour away with the jet. Bloody perfect, innit?” Niall cries out, sitting up straight and flashing Liam a wide grin. Right in time, too. If Niall spent any second longer in closer proximity with Harry’s boner than Louis, he would not be beyong throwing a hissy fit.

Liam frowns, the wheels turning in his brain almost visible. Louis doesn’t know why he even bothers pretending to think it over. Everyone knows he’s going to give in anyway.

True to his character, Liam does end up giving in. That, out of everything, was the easiest part. It’s a logistical nightmare, is what it is, even with their private jet only taking four hours to get there from Boston instead of the usual nearing-six hours. Then again, they’re young, they’re rich, and Louis wouldn’t mind getting absolutely hammered tonight. Why not, really?

“Let’s do it, Nialler,” he says and glances down to meet Harry’s eyes, surprise sketched among the green he can’t get enough of. Louis simply shrugs back at him. He’s always up for a good partying, isn’t he? Harry’s just gonna have to keep up with him this time around. Normally, Harry’s free to opt out, but it’s Niall’s birthday - as a bandmate and best friend and god damn _spouse_ , he is obligated to come along. He’s just going to have to deal with the smoke and drinking and attention this time.

Louis makes sure to communicate all that with just one glance. They wouldn’t be _LouisandHarry_ if Harry didn’t immediately understand what he was saying.

“Fine,” Harry sighs, and as Louis pecks Harry on the lips in glee, Preston speaks up, pointing at the two of them.

“Harry can’t be seen walking in with you,” he reminds them, and, fuck, right. For a moment there, all four of them had seemed to forgotten that going out as a band entails a lot of effort on everyone’s part. It’s worth it, and they’ll do it anyway, but it kind of puts a damper on his plans of getting Harry drunk as soon as they walk in together, of making them pleasantly buzzed at the same time and see where it leads.  

“Where’s he supposed to be, then?” Louis sighs. Harry’s hand wraps around him and squeezes him tightly, grounding him and making him feel lighter immediately.

“He’s going for yoghurt tomorrow,” Dale smirks, knowing his schedule by heart. Louis flinches. LA as well, then. Tomorrow, Harry will be out to get some Pinkberry or Go Greek or whatever it is for the sake of keeping up pretences. The entire world will think that he cares more about Jeff, Xander or bloody _Nadine_ than his own band member's birthday.

It’s ridiculous, really. Even after two years Louis still hasn’t gotten used to it. He likes Harry’s LA crew as much as the next person, fits in with them, even, has gone on a few dinner dates with Jeff and Glenne himself. He’s never minded hanging out with them when he’s there, but the fact that half the world buys into this act? Louis can’t wrap his head around it. It’s a bit tedious at this point.  

All he wants is to take Harry home the second they land in Vegas and to eat him out until he’s crying with it. He’d gladly postpone those plans in favor of Niall’s birthday, but for publicity?

He’s feeling a bit rebellious, if he’s honest.

“Hey, Li, we can fly out together to LA after this,” Harry perches up and flashes Liam a smile. At that, Liam visibly relaxes and sits down on the armrest of the couch that suddenly seems too small for all of them. It seems a bit ironic, Louis thinks bitterly - there used to be a time they piled up on there with five, not caring how small the surface was as long as they were close to each other.

He sincerely hopes Zayn calls Niall somewhere between now and tomorrow. If not, there’s nothing stopping Louis from calling him out on Twitter again. It’s been a while, after all.

“So how are we doing this tonight, then?” Liam asks and turns around to look at Paddy. Louis’ mind drifts away, fingers playing with Harry’s as they talk through the logistics of it all. He’ll find out soon enough, Preston ushering him along wherever they go. For now, he’s focused on his boy, on the way Harry’s breath quickens just a bit when he flicks their intertwined fingers over his nipples. It’s a much better way to spend their time.

Eventually, they determine that Louis and Niall fly out first, taking one of the jets to throw the fans off their game. Liam and Harry will fly out later and sneak in through the private entrance of the club they’re supposed to meet at, be MIA to the public and then pop up in LA later. Foul proof.

It means they won’t be together when the clock strikes midnight to sing Niall a song, but they’ll have the rest of the night to make up for it.

Louis is so, so tired of sneaking around, but he gets to go clubbing with his boy for the first time in God knows how long, so he supposes things could be worse. At least there’ll be _some_ cock-to-arse action involved. He’ll make sure of that.

~*~

Three Jägerbombs, two beers and a few carefully chosen fan photos later, Niall and Louis have officially announced their presence to the world and shown the update accounts that it’s only the two of them getting smashed in Vegas. Niall’s somehow changed into a different shirt in the meantime, flaunting a white greyish blouse that’s just unbuttoned enough to show off his chest hair.

Louis can’t help but snicker every time he looks at it. _Someone_ ’s been taking notes from Harry.  

It’s his birthday, though, so for once, Niall’s forgiven. Especially since Louis hasn’t even bothered to change out of his tour outfit yet. He figures it’s fine - he has twelve days to wash those clothes, after all. They can stand a little beer and smoke for a night out. God knows they’ve been through worse.

He’s pleasantly buzzed at this point, the world going soft around the edges, and there’s a thrill in his veins that won’t simmer down, hyping him up along with the beat that’s terrorising his eardrums. He wants to _take_ whatever life offers him _,_ wants to jump out of his own skin until the buzz slows down, run around until every thought he’s having are mashed together and make no sense at all. Most of all, he wants Harry.

There’s a girl at the bar, eyeing him suspiciously. He’d noticed earlier. Even in his compromised state, he can recognize a fan when he sees one. She’d thrown them a wide-eyed stare the minute they walked in and hasn’t let up until then. Louis stares back at her, contemplating. Right then, his vision whites out for a second, familiar flashes blinding him temporarily.

The best part is that she thinks she’s being sneaky, Louis thinks to himself, a smirk curling around his lips. He moves to take another swig of his beer, only to find that it’s empty. All the more reason to get to the bar, then.

“I’ll be right back, Nialler,” he yells into Niall’s ear, who’s too caught up with chugging his beer in record time to say anything. Louis waits until she’s snuck another picture of the two of them and his vision has cleared out, before he walks up to the bar and settles down next to her.

“‘M afraid that’s the last one you can take tonight, love,” he murmurs, his hand firmly gripping into her shoulder. She stares back at him silently, white as a sheet, clearly not expecting him to come over. Her eyes are friendly, though slightly panicked, and in that moment, Louis makes a snap decision.

“If you promise to pretend it’s only Ni and I buggering about, we can take a photo together, yeah?”

“Of course,” she stammers and pulls her phone out. Louis can see that her hands are shaking, so he takes it out of her hands, knowing how devastated she would be if the picture came out blurry. Hell, the first time he’d taken a picture with Chad Michael Murray, it came out ruined and he’d had to ask for another one, forcing Chad to get his hands back on him.

It was simultaneously the most humiliating and glorious moment of his life so far.

As he lifts the phone, he crosses his eyes in an attempt to hide how unfocused his eyes are, and points at the girl next to him, cuddled into him closely. He can feel her tremble under his touch, and not for the first time, he drunkenly wonders what it is about him that causes this kind of reaction. With Harry, he understands. He’d been simultaneously floored the first time he’d laid eyes on him in that bathroom years and years ago and hasn’t been able to fully get up ever since. Him, though? He doesn’t fully understand it, but appreciates it nonetheless. Sort of.

“There you go babe,” he smiles as he hands her the phone back. He quickly turns around and orders another three beers from the outrageously handsome man behind the bar, giving the third beer to the girl, who still hasn’t fucked off. She’s obviously in need of a bit of guidance here, and Louis will happily supply. “Now, go hang with your friends and enjoy your night, yeah? Don’t focus on silly ol’ me.”

It sounds friendly enough, but the warning is in there, and he knows she’s heard it as well. She quietly scurries off, and he’d feel bad about not talking to her for any longer, but she hadn’t exactly been very conversational either, had she? He’s done his best, truly.

As he heads back to Niall, Louis decides he’s done enough work now - he wants his prize. No one is going to say a word about who else might show up here, the world is convinced only Louis is a good enough friend to party with Niall, and he is _ready_ to wreck his boy in public until neither of them can see straight. Speaking of whom - why on bloody earth is Harry still not here?

“Tommo, for fuck’s sake, stop sulking,” Niall yells in his ear and slings an arm around Louis’ neck, dragging him close and taking the second beer out of his hands. Bugger - it must have shown on his face somehow. 

‘’S my birthday! It’s Harry day every day,” Niall continues to slur as he presses a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to Louis’ jaw.

A sense of guilt immediately falls over him, settling in his gut. Ever since March, and a little before that, if he’s honest, it’s been the four of them, together as a team, and he _knows_ they will always stand together, them against the world. He’s going to make sure of that. If anything, Zayn’s departure had given them some clarity about their future. Niall knows that, he’s showing his love to him every day, but the fact remains - he isn’t aching to get Niall’s cock in his mouth, isn’t aching to touch him every minute of every day, and if he gets a bit carried away with it here and there, he can see how that gets annoying. Maybe. Possibly.

Niall’s still pressing his nose into Louis’ neck, clinging onto him as he’s singing some Irish jig Louis can’t understand, and a wave of warmth spreads through him, grateful for his idiotic, now twenty-two year old friend. Or that could be the shots talking. Either way - he’s feeling warm, fuzzy and full of love, and Niall should know that. Immediately.

“Oi, wanker, listen to me for a sec, this is important,” he whispers into Niall’s ear. Niall stills, looking up at him with big, hazy eyes, going a bit cross the harder he tries to focus. Louis ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek fondly.

“I've grown quite fond of ya, you overgrown child.” It’s enough to temporarily get him back to clarity, apparently.

“Love ya too Lou,” Niall grins as he untangles himself from Louis, “but not as much as I love that girl in the corner.” He smirks and sways over to his new victim, splashing his beer over his new shirt as he goes.

Just like that, Louis is left to his own devices. He looks around, and he thinks he sees a flash of what could be Liam go through the door, but he loses him as soon as his brain catches up with what his eyes had seen all along. Maybe not, then.

Sipping on his beer, he lifts his other hand, rubbing over his chest comfortably. All it does is rile him up further, so he looks down on his phone that’s been buzzing, expecting to see a text from Harry confirming where he is. Even if all the letters are blurry, he can make out that the name of the texter starts with a Z. It’s not Harry who’s been texting him, so he decides that he doesn’t care. Anyone who isn’t Harry doesn’t matter. It’s nearing four am. His patience has been tested enough.

The people around him are getting hotter, wilder, blurrier as he’s trying to make out any shapes, and he stumbles into a couple who have started going at it filthily. He shudders, flicking his fringe out of his face, and moves his eyes back to the bar out of habit, hoping that the girl from earlier isn’t still creepily staring at him.

He stiffens at what he sees instead.

Harry’s standing at the bar, looking like a vision and taking Louis’ breath away. He’s changed out of his tour outfit, dressing up for the occasion, and Louis’ throat goes dry as he rakes his eyes over Harry’s hair that’s bundled together in a carefully crafted bun, resting perfectly on the crown of his head.

His mind flashes to Harry kissing down his torso, tying up his hair before he goes down on him, hot lips and heavy breathing replacing the ringing in his ears.

At this point, he’s been conditioned to get hard every time Harry wears his hair in a bun.

It’s unfair, absolutely maddening and most of all, wildly inconvenient. It has occurred too often to count that Louis had to run off the stage as Harry put up his hair in a bun, just to avoid demanding a blowjob right on stage. Harry knows this. He _knows_ that Louis goes absolutely mental when he does it, knows that Louis’ fingers are aching to pull the curls out of the bun as he mouths up and down his neck, knows that it makes him think of all the times Harry’s put his hair in a bun just to suck Louis off right after.

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill he feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out, his voice coming out more like a whisper among the loud beat of the music surging through his veins. He wants, _needs_ to put his hands on Harry. He needed it bloody yesterday.

He makes his way through the crowd, pushing people to the side as he approaches Harry, who’s crossed his arms and is looking at him with raised eyebrows, chewing on his gum lazily.

“There you are,” Louis half-yells, his chest bursting with how much he wants to touch. He obliges, giving in to the urge, and reaches out to cradle Harry’s face with the hand that isn’t holding his beer.

“Been waiting for you all night,” he tacks on with a low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the music, and attempts to kiss his boyfriend’s lips. It takes a second before he realizes Harry’s lips aren’t co-operating, not opening up to him like they usually would. He frowns, kissing harder through the haze, and it takes even longer before it dawns on him that his lips are moving over Harry’s chin instead of his mouth, lips grazing the barely there stubble.

Harry’s hands slide down to his back, steadying Louis in his grip. He huffs out a laugh against Louis’ ear.

“Yeah? Couldn’t wait to passionately make out with my chin, could you?” Harry teases, still lazily chewing his gum. It drives Louis crazy, the drawl in his voice doing nothing to help calm him down. Somewhere deep down he knows he’s being challenged, and he wants to fight, always ready to rise to the bait, but he’d rather just… Kiss Harry instead. They can fight later, he’s impatient.

Nobody can blame him, to be honest.

“Couldn’t wait to make out with any part of you, Haz,” Louis whines and drags him closer, kissing him firmly on the lips this time. Harry thankfully indulges him, lips sliding against his own and tongue dipping in briefly, before pulling back as the song changes in the background.

“Lou,” Harry says softly and pushes him off his chest, “We gotta get back to the boys, yeah?” He points to Niall and Liam in the corner, where the two of them are heavily flirting with the girls around them. In any other situation, he’d be wary, ready to hop over to Liam and remind him that Sophia _exists,_ but right now he couldn’t care less if he tried.

“The lads me arse,” Louis bites out, letting his hand travel downwards, opening up a few more buttons of the shirt that was too spread open in the first place. Harry envelops his hand with his own and traps it against his chest, effectively stopping him from going any further.

“It’s his birthday, Lou,” Harry reprimands. At that, something ugly rears itself in Louis’ brain and it’s probably the alcohol making it worse, but he can’t help himself.

“I’m aware,” he snaps and chugs the rest of his beer in one swift motion. “I’ve been the one celebrating it with him for hours when you were too busy making yourself pretty. Reckon I’m the clear now, yeah?”

He regrets it the second it gets out, and he stiffens, hoping he didn’t muck it all up. When his eyes find Harry’s, instead of anger or hurt, he finds a challenge hidden there, Harry’s lips curling up into a satisfied smirk.

“If you mind so much, I’ll just make myself scarce,” he says smugly and untangles himself from Louis’ grip, “At least the birthday boy will appreciate that I made an effort. Unlike _some_ people.”

At that, he disappears out of Louis’ admittedly unfocused eyesight and makes way to the corner, where Louis can see Niall welcome him with a cheer.

“Fuckin’ popstars,” Louis grumbles to himself as his hand slides down to adjust himself in his trousers. Jesus fuck. He’s a hundred percent sure that this boy is going to be the death of him one day. Whether it’s because of frustration or sex, he’s not sure yet. Either option sounds very plausible at this point. 

He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs deeply, letting the air escape his lips with a low hiss. It does absolutely nothing to calm him down, nor does it soften the strain on his trousers. Louis sets his empty glass back at the bar before he pushes his way towards the crowd again, which has somehow become more crowded and compact in the span of five minutes. It doesn’t deter him in the slightest. Just because he’s shorter than Harry, doesn’t mean he can’t make a crowd part ways for him.

Fuck that. He’s ace at this. If he can learn how to not choke as Harry sits on his face, he can push his way through a throng of people who have no clue who he is.

He reaches the corner where his band mates are, just in time to overhear Harry trying to get the small crew to sing Niall a birthday song. Nobody seems all too eager to participate, treating him to shots that seem to appear from thin air instead.

It immediately becomes painfully obvious that Harry’s mind is set to playing games for a while. He barely looks at Louis, focusing fully on Niall instead, who introduces him to the red-haired girl Liam’s been chatting up.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he says with a hand held out, and the girl blanches. Honestly, Louis feels for her - it’s like looking in the face of a thousand lightbulbs turning on all at once. Nobody stands a chance.

“Roxy,” she shouts hesitantly over the music and just like that, Liam becomes history, her attention focused on Harry only. He’s turning on the full charm, too, grinning at her and looking at her intently, his gaze flickering over her eyes, to her lips, and back up again. 

Liam’s face falls and Louis laughs, forgetting for a second that Harry is being a fucking pain in the arse. He wraps an arm around Liam, drunkenly leaning in to him.

“It’s for the best, Payno,” he grins with a shake of his head and mimes _Sophia,_ as if he’s afraid to speak the words out loud.

“We were just talking,” Liam protests, and Louis doesn’t know what to say to that. Liam wouldn’t really _do_ anything, Louis knows it, Harry knows it, but they’ve all discussed it more than once and agreed that it was better to nip it in the bud before it had the chance to escalate. In that second, he doesn’t even mind that Harry’s ignoring him - this time around, it’s for a good cause.

It becomes a little more annoying the longer it goes on, however. Even after Roxy’s fucked off and took the rest of the girls with her to God knows where, Harry turns his focus on Niall and Liam respectively, sending a quick wink in Louis’ general direction just when he’s about to burst.

All of it gets progressively worse when he starts to really get into it, dancing his heart out to the filthy beat the DJ has picked out. Harry’s moves are becoming increasingly obscene, hand creeping down from his hair to his neck torturingly slow. It takes all Louis has to not go over there and slap his hand away, to not stalk over and attack the skin of Harry’s neck until it’s red and bruised where everyone can see 

Harry looks over at Louis through his eyelashes as his hips start moving circles, hand slowly rubbing the material of his shirt from left to right. Louis wants to _die_.

Every time he thinks he’s had enough and decides to stalk over to Harry and grab him by the hips, Harry dashes off until he’s far enough out of reach to be able to dance freely. It keeps him on his toes, sure, but he’s also growing harder in his pants the longer Harry keeps it up, without any sort of relief in the immediate future.

For fuck’s sake.

Harry marches over to Niall then, plastering himself to his back and whispering something in his ear. He’s looking at Louis as he does it, grinning at him filthily, and even though Louis _knows_ it’s probably something completely random about dolphins, it looks like he just offered to sink to his knees and get Niall’s cock in his mouth. It makes something ugly and wild stir itself in Louis’ gut, fingers absolutely shaking with how much he just _needs_ to get his hands on his boy right now and wreck him until he cries with it.

That just won’t do, will it?

He growls, loud enough to make Niall look up in wonder and back himself away from Harry immediately as he notes the expression on Louis’ face.

“Nope, no, nuh-uh,” Niall hollers and runs over to Liam, who welcomes him straight into his arms with the biggest, understanding puppy-eyes Louis has ever seen.

“What?” Harry looks absolutely gleeful, running his tongue over his lips with a grin. “What have I done?”

“You bloody well know what you did,” Louis grunts out, taking two steps closer to his boyfriend. He’s sure that there’s fire in his eyes, because _something_ has got to be fuelling the burn inside his chest that just won’t let up. It seems to consume him, growing a little with every breath that fills his lungs, and he’s so full with it that he feels like he’s about to melt to the ground in a puddle.

“I want no part in your weird foreplay, nope, none for this Irishman,” Niall complains and he turns around in Liam’s arms, tugging on his wrist in desperation. Louis just stares at Harry, observing how his fingers slip to his mouth and tug at it in amusement.

“C’mon Payno, let’s get me some more shots,” he hears Niall plead and he vaguely registers that they’re heading towards the bar, but at this moment, he couldn’t care less.

It’s him versus Harry now, and he’s not planning on waiting any longer.

Selena Gomez starts blasting through the speakers, the crowd growing wild and simply going at it a little harder, bodies swaying around him in earnest. Louis can’t help but groan out loud as he figures out who he’s listening to, who the crowd is going crazy for. He doesn’t see the appeal, but maybe that has a lot less to do with the singer and a lot more with the fact that the hottest man in the world is standing in front of him, decidedly _not_ kissing him. He’s going mad and quite frankly, he’s not above begging at this point.

He’s on high alert, eyes skimming over Harry nervously, almost in hyper focus as everything seems to blur out except for Harry, stood there in that maddeningly sheer shirt that reveals absolutely everything Louis has wet dreams about on a daily basis.

“Harry,” he says silently and it gets lost in the music, but he knows Harry’s heard him anyway. Neither of them wait for Harry to answer - they crash into each other at the same time, and oh, thank _god,_ apparently Harry decided Louis had waited long enough.

Harry turns him around until Louis’ arse is firmly pressed against his front. The singer seductively moans out her lines at the same time Louis whimpers at the contact, vibrating out of his skin as Harry’s hands roam all over him.

“Couldn’t wait to get my hands on you,” Harry says over the music, lips dragging from his ear to the back of his neck. Louis shivers against Harry’s huge hand splayed out against the swell of his stomach.

“Seemed like you were doing just fine over there,” Louis bites out, but there’s no heat behind it, not when Harry’s hips circle against his own. He’s not even aware of the lyrics of the song until Harry wraps himself around Louis completely, crowding him closer to the wall.

“Baby,” Harry starts, and then stops, listening to the music and hearing his _baby_ echoed in the club, much louder, from someone who’s decidedly not Harry. A dirty smile flashes across his face.

“Let me be good for you,” Harry drawls out lowly at the same time the song does, breath ghosting over the shell of Louis’ ear. The low rumble of his voice wins it from the song by miles, and it doesn’t stop there (of course not, life would simply be too simple if it did). Harry’s hand slides down from Louis’ stomach to his hips, gripping him firmly with both hands until he’s somehow established a rhythm. They’re swaying to the music in circles, and Louis is on fire, can’t fight it anymore, can’t do anything but go along with the gentle rocking against the swell of his bum as if he’s on a boat, defiantly rocking along with the waves the ocean is throwing at him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he whimpers, and it’s really been too long, he’s been walking around with a stiffy for hours now. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. The song picks up in the chorus, rhythm a little faster, and so do Harry’s hips, moving along to what they’re hearing, thrusting with every _“good”_ that gets uttered. Louis keens under the pressure and turns around in Harry’s arms until they’re pressed front to front.  Harry smirks filthily and leans down. Louis is absolutely sure that he’s finally going to kiss him, but what happens instead is worse. His mouth makes way to Louis’ ear.

“Let me show you how proud I am to be yours,” he mouths along to the song, words falling from his lips low and melodically.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The entire reason Harry dresses up, makes himself look irresistible, is to put on a show for Louis and Louis only. Nobody else matters, not even when Harry’s flirting with someone else - it’s all for the two of them, always been that way and always will be that way. He feels like he gets the words now, understands what Harry’s saying, how he just wants to be good for _him,_ for _Louis,_ and… Well. Fuck if he isn’t going to take advantage of that.

At some point they’d stopped moving, instead breathing each other in and enjoying each other’s body heat, but Louis grins, finding a sudden confidence in the way Harry’s practically telling him how he’s trying to be a good boy for him. They’ve never gone there before, and he doubts tonight’s the night to explore that unfamiliar territory, but it’s enough to rile him up just that bit more.

“You do, don’t you, love? Want to be good for me?” Louis murmurs, resting his hands against Harry’s pecs and leaning in. He nibbles on Harry’s bottom lip, biting down hard, and thrusts his hips into Harry’s. They both gasp against each other’s mouths, jaw going slack at the friction they’d both been craving for far too long now.

The gum seems to have disappeared, Louis registers vaguely as he licks into Harry’s mouth. It’s then that Harry breaks apart, leaning his forehead against Louis’, and mouths the lines that will fuck Louis up until the end of the time. 

“You say I give it to you hard, ” Harry practically pants, words filling the air as he continues, “make you never wanna leave.” The last line is accompanied by a well-placed thrust against Louis’ groin and that’s the fucking end of his restraint, Louis’s tip practically dripping in his pants in anticipation. A loud moan escapes from his mouth but gets lost in the music, his mind reeling, skin buzzing against Harry’s, warm and hot and most of all maddening. If they don’t get out of here soon, he’s going to come on the dance floor like a teenager, and he just can’t have that. 

Not that they’ve never had that happen, but Louis is trying to preserve the minuscule amount of dignity he has left, okay?

He says nothing, merely backs off and drags Harry with him through the crowd of people, stalking through the hallway in hopes of finding a private spot. There’s none, of course, and he’s pretty certain that he sees the fan from earlier hanging around the hallway. As much as he wishes he could risk it, this is too much even for him, too much at stake, so he makes way to the bathroom, locking himself and Harry in it after he’s made sure there’s no one hiding in the stalls.

The irony of being in a bathroom like this, _again,_ doesn’t escape him.

“Harry, Haz, _please,”_ he tries to demand as he spins around and pushes Harry against the bathroom door, but it comes out more like a plea, and that’s not what he wanted. He’s in charge, isn't he? His mind is just… Foggy, which is Harry’s fault entirely. He sears their lips together, dragging him into a bruising kiss that is more teeth and has absolutely no finesse.

“Please, what?” Harry asks against his mouth, tone innocent, though his eyes are absolutely sparkling with mischief and pure, unadulterated _want_.

“Fucking blow me, Harry, c’mon,” Louis says impatiently. Harry looks at him like he’s contemplating refusing him his request, and that just won’t do. Louis looks at his hands, composure suddenly regained, and keeps his gaze trained on his nails as he speaks up. 

“Blow me now, or I will absolutely not eat you out later,” he snarls, voice surprisingly steady for someone who was begging for a blow job mere seconds ago. Before he can blink, Harry has dropped to his knees, expensive leather jeans be damned, and is popping open the button of his trousers.

“Really? That desperate for it, are you?” Louis laughs throatily as Harry’s hands run over his still clothed cock, slowly sliding down the zipper. He fishes his phone out of his pocket before his trousers hit the floor, knowing it would break on the bathroom tiles otherwise, and holds it in his left hand, absolutely sure that this is going to be over before he knows it. He spares a quick look at his screen, unlocking it briefly.

“As if you’re one to judge,” Harry retaliates from the floor, but the blush on his face is unmistakable, cheeks flaming red at just the thought of Louis rimming him. Louis doesn’t get the chance to entertain the idea much, since that’s the moment Harry decides to take the tip of his dick in his mouth through his pants. A gasp escapes from his lips, fingers digging into the screen of his phone.

“Don’t be a tease, Haz,” he gets out through gritted teeth, hands firmly clutching the phone. He’s counting the tiles behind Harry, trying to keep it together and not come before he’s even had a proper mouth on him but he’s been hard for so _long_ that he doesn’t know if he can prolong this any more than he has so far.

His pants get yanked down to his knees and his dick springs free. Louis shivers against the cool air, and Harry blows a bit of air on it himself teasingly before closing his mouth around Louis’ tip, sucking around the crown easily. He laps at the pre-come pooled in the slit, tongue dragging over the head, and Louis swears he can hear the angels sing in the sky.

“That’s it, love,” he moans quietly, and apparently that’s not enough for Harry, because he sucks him down in one expert move that nobody but Harry could pull off that easily. If he wasn’t so goddamn turned on, Louis’ heart would have burst with love for this boy.

“Mmm, yeah, ri’ there,” Louis whimpers, accent slipping through the cracks more and more as he unravels. He can’t help the involuntarily move of his hips, his cock inching deeper into Harry’s mouth, but Harry just takes it like he’s meant to do this forever. His lips are stretched around Louis’ dick, nice and pink and wet, and Louis’ dick twitches in his mouth, waiting to burst at the sight.

“Always with that bloody bun,” Louis curses, free hand stroking the bun in question and tugging on it in desperation. Harry moans around his cock at the feeling, so Louis does it again, enjoying it a lot more than he probably should. Harry’s hand moves down to his balls and fondles them gently, easing up on Louis’ dick until he’s back at the head. He licks a stripe on the shaft, tongue featherly light.

If Louis was sober, or less out of it, at least, he would have remembered to lock his phone. With his eyes snapping shut, he doesn’t notice the phone light up, or the fact that his fingers have shifted to his latest texts. As it is, Harry sucks him down again before he eases up, mouth bobbing in a rhythm now.

“Harry, _oh,”_ he whines out as Harry speeds up the rhythm, and he can feel it, can feel the tug on his stomach, a tingle starting to edge up his spine, “So good for me, Haz, you really _are_ so good for me, _fuck_ -”

Harry pulls off and grins up at him, mouth shining with spit. He visibly preens at the praise, and that’s _really_ something they should explore, see how far praise gets him, but Louis can’t properly entertain that idea right now, not when Harry’s hand wraps around his dick and starts to wank him in quick strokes.

“Always for you, Lou,” he whispers and slides a hand from his balls to his perineum, pressing his finger against it tightly. Feathery light kisses are scattered around his dick and Louis can’t place them, can’t keep track of them, focused on the sensation of Harry’s finger, green eyes looking up at him in earnest, just wanting to do it _right._

“‘M so close, _ah_ -” Lips close around his head one last time and suck down hard. It’s the friction that does it, along with the finger that is suddenly pressed against his hole, and Louis’ vision whites out as he comes harder than he has in _weeks,_ shooting up into Harry’s throat and watching him suck it all down as the pressure on his rim won’t let up.

“Shit,” he says weakly and eases the grip on his phone, fingers cramping with the force of it all. His screen is pitch black this time around. Harry laughs and gets off his knees, albeit a bit awkwardly, and kisses Louis hard. Louis relaxes against him, head cleared from the fog now that he’s finally, _finally_ come.

“Now,” Harry starts as he leans his head against the wall,  “I believe I was promised a reward?”

~*~

Somewhere, deep down, his mind tells him that he should feel guilty, leaving Niall at the club like this, but was it ever really going to end otherwise? Besides. It’s not like Niall wasn’t looking to pull tonight - it’s just Liam who’s going home alone. Whatever. He’ll manage.

Louis throws Harry down on the bed and settles between his legs, immediately moving to peel the skin tight leather jeans off his legs, which proves to be exactly as difficult as he initially thought it would be. He growls and tugs on them forcefully, trying to get them off in one swift motion.

“Hey, careful,” Harry complains and sits up, upper body resting on his elbows as he frowns down at Louis.

“I’m not going to bloody rip them, stop fussing over it,” Louis answers with an eyeroll and focuses back on the task at hand. He isn’t feeling as twitchy anymore, less riled up by the need to get his hands on Harry pronto. It helps that the alcohol has worn off as well, probably. Instead, his mind is reeling with possibilities about what he could do to Harry.

He looks down at Harry, at his legs that never seem to end, thighs just the right thickness to hold Louis in his lap. He honestly isn’t sure what he wants to do first, can’t decide if he wants his mouth on Harry’s thighs or go right for the arse immediately. Something inside of him is aching to get one of those stupid headscarves of his and tie him to the bed with, just so he knows what it’s like to be absolutely helpless against whatever it is Louis wants, to have Harry be good for him when he asks him to.

Not without talking about it, though, and tonight is not the night for kink discussions. Tonight, Louis is on a mission.

“Get them off yourself,” he complains, voice firm, because even if he was trying to be sexy, none of this is working out and he can admit defeat when he sees it. He’s planning to take his time, yes, but this was not what he had in mind. Harry obliges immediately and rips it off surprisingly smoothly, revealing that he’s completely bare underneath. He quirks an eyebrow at Louis, as if he’s supposed to be surprised at this revelation, but he’s not even bothered in the slightest. He doesn’t see how there’d be room for pants anyway, not with these jeans clinging to him like a second skin. 

Harry moves to pull off the shirt as well, which goes _entirely_ against what Louis had in mind for tonight. Louis stops him, grabbing his wrists with his hands until they’re resting against the headboard.

“No, keep it on,” he orders and he doesn’t even mean to, but his voice drops two octaves as he rasps out the words. Harry visibly shudders, and even as Louis lets go of his wrists, he keeps them crossed above his head, willingly leaving them there and staring down at Louis in earnest.

Louis takes a step back to admire his handiwork, lets his eyes rake over Harry lying there pliantly, completely giving himself to whatever it is that Louis wants in just a shirt that’s so see through it might as well not exist at all. It hugs his body just right, clinging to the curves of his waist and leaving his broad chest open enough for Louis to see a hint of the birds. His cock is a lovely shade of dark red, standing up firmly between his legs, and Louis can’t believe how hard he is just from _this._

“Louis,” Harry grunts loudly, and oh, yes, right, they’re alone now. They can be as loud as they want and no one will be able to walk in on them. Electricity burns beneath his fingertips, spreading through his body at the realization that he can break Harry down to pieces freely. Something snaps in him, whatever it is, and his mouth starts running, absolutely powerless against holding any words back.

“Yeah? Like being ordered around, love?” he asks softly and trails a finger up Harry’s thigh, looking up to see Harry biting his lip firmly. “Love that I’m punishing you for that little trick tonight? Want to show me how good you can be?”

He doesn’t even know where this side of him is coming from, but he can’t stop it now, can’t stop his words from slipping out as Harry thrashes around the bed with Louis only laying a finger on him, still trailing up and down the inside of his thigh. He chokes when he realizes that Harry still has his wrists crossed over his head, causing the rough material of his shirt to ride up and expose his happy trail.

“How do you want me?” Harry asks then, trying to keep still even as he’s starting to shake against Louis’ touch, and, God, that’s. He’s just _waiting_ for Louis to tell him what to do. Louis blanches, panic suddenly rising up his throat as he looks at Harry, ready to give himself to him entirely. It’s too much, too much to take after the emotional turmoil of the last twelve hours, but it’s also precisely what he didn’t even know he wanted.

He’s seen Harry cocksure, seen him take over the world one smile at a time, but never has he seen him like this.

Then again, he supposes Harry has never seen Louis like this, either. It eases the lump in his throat a little and he swallows, kissing up Harry’s thighs. He grins as he gets closer to the tiger on Harry’s thigh (“A thigher, Lou!” Harry had exclaimed in joy right after he got it) and huffs out a groan against it, nipping at the ink playfully without breaking any skin. This he knows. This he can do. He sucks down on the spot where he knows Harry’s thighs rub together and sucks down firmly to make sure he’ll feel it tomorrow when he’s prancing around in LA, showing the world how available he is, when in reality he already belongs to someone.

The world doesn’t even realize how wrong they are.

Soft little whines start leaving Harry’s lips as Louis attaches his lips around the skin firmer and bites down softly. He laps over the spot with his tongue, soothing the ache, and repeats the motion a few times until he reaches Harry’s cock. He’s so wet already, pre-come pooling in his slit, and normally Louis would show some mercy and suck him off, but tonight is not that night.

“On your knees, facing the wall,” he commands suddenly and waits for Harry to get with the program, watching him sit up and looking back at Louis in confusion. His back is tense, muscles in his legs visibly straining with the effort of holding himself up after a long night.

“Lou?” he asks gently and Louis can’t help himself, surging forward and kissing him softly. He still faintly tastes like come, _Louis’ come,_ fuck, but he can feel Harry relax into the kiss, going pliant into his arms, and he needs to check. They’re not doing anything that requires a discussion yet, nothing too extreme, but it’s still something new. He needs to _know._

“Are you okay with this?” he murmurs against Harry’s lips. “Like, this isn’t too far?”

“I’m _so_ okay with this, _so fucking okay._ God, Lou, you don’t even know,” Harry groans and that’s a filthy lie, because Louis can kinda relate, dying to get his hands on Harry himself and tell him to ride his cock.

“You’re sure?” he asks, just to confirm, and waits until Harry nods before letting go. Okay then. Showtime.

“Hold on to the headboard,” he warns and grabs Harry’s cheeks, kneading them with his hands until they’re flushing under his grip. Harry does as he says and groans as his cock accidentally rubs up against the pillow.

“Don’t,” Louis simply says and stops touching him, staring at the way Harry’s back is framed by sheer black, screaming at him to rip it open.

“Hurry then,” Harry whines and opens his mouth to say something else, but his voice dies down his throat as Louis leans in, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s arse. He presses a few light kisses up and down his crack, watching how Harry tenses above him, arching into the touch. The edges of his shirt tickle Louis’ cheek, making him twitch in his trousers. Unlike Harry, he’s still fully clothed, cock trapped behind his fly.

He waits a beat, watching how Harry gets used to the feeling, before he flattens his tongue against Harry’s hole.

“O-oh, _fuck_ ,” Harry cries out and his head drops down, resting against his hands around the headboard, and _fuck yes,_ that’s right where Louis wants him. He starts licking faster, circling around Harry’s rim with his free hand curled around Harry’s leg, stroking up and down in reassuring touches. When Harry’s starting to get used to it, posture moving against Louis’ tongue, he switches it up, tongue dipping into his hole.

“Louis, oh my _god,_ shit -” Where Harry’s usually slow, grunts coming from him lowly, he’s positively _whining_ now, high whimpers falling from his lips as he tries to keep himself up against the headboard. Louis could do this forever, could watch this unfold on repeat for the rest of his life and not complain for a single second 

“Keep still,” he murmurs against Harry’s arse and Harry nods enthusiastically. The only thing that’s wrong with this position is that Louis can’t see his face, can’t see his eyes scrunching shut against the feeling, can’t see if tears have started pooling in the corner of his eyes yet like they tend to do when he eats him out for a long time.

“Please keep going, _ah,”_ Harry wails and he does it so prettily, is the thing. He’s gorgeous like this, falling apart on Louis’ tongue, trying his best to keep as still as he can, but he seems unable to help himself, arching into the touch despite it all. Louis grins against his arse and fucks his tongue into him in a rhythm now, preening at the way Harry is trying to stay frozen, trying for _him_. He fucks into him faster as a reward, tongue alternating between licking around his rim and dipping in.

He reaches around with his free hand, trying to get a hand on Harry’s dick. Surprisingly, Harry stiffens, arching away from the touch but not doing anything about it since he’s not the one in charge tonight. It causes another twitch in Louis’ pants, dick growing harder and harder in his trousers until it almost hurts.

“No, no, want to come on your cock, Lou, please,” he pants, begging with it.  His curls are slowly falling from his bun and into his face, and for a split second Louis wishes that he could paint, because if he had the talent he would paint this and hang it on his wall to look at for the rest of eternity.

Rimming is an art form too, he tells himself. He could do worse.

“Yeah? Want to ride me, just taking it and working for it yourself?” Louis murmurs and reaches up, wrapping Harry in his arms and turning him around until they’re facing each other. His breath stops halfway down his throat at the sight 

Harry is absolutely _wrecked._ His face is blotchy and wet with tears, his bloodshot eyes puffy as he looks back at Louis. He nods enthusiastically since his voice has seemed to have abandoned him, and Louis feels a wave of love for this ridiculous, beautiful man.

“You’re amazing, love,” he smiles, as he can’t seem to keep up the stern act the entire time even if he wants to, but he guesses it takes practice. He presses kisses all over Harry’s face, kissing the tears away, and then sits back, undressing himself in record time and throwing his clothes to the other side of the hotel room. As soon as he’s naked, he settles back against the headboard.

“Come on then,” he smirks and gestures at his lap. “Make yourself useful, grab us some lube."

Harry scrambles off the bed and practically runs over to their bags, rummaging through them for the lube. Louis is impressed. He isn’t sure if he’d be able to get up that quickly right after being rimmed.

As Harry climbs back up the bed, Louis points at his cock, gesturing for Harry to lube it up quickly. He obliges, sitting back on his hunches and grinning up at Louis, a little more sure of himself now that he knows where this is going. Louis likes it better this way, when Harry’s personality slips through the cracks. It’s not as all consuming, not as earth shattering. Instead, it grounds him. They’re still them, still _LouisandHarry_. It’s all okay.

“Finger yourself open, too,” he says and then quickly adds a warning, “Quickly. No lingering, no ‘accidentally’ going too deep.” He feels a thrill shoot up his spine at the order and sees Harry flush.

“You being in charge is very - _ah_ \- hot, y’know that?” Harry grunts out as he gets a finger in. The angle is awkward as he’s hovering above Louis’ lap, waiting until he can sink down on his cock, but it works. He’s still spread open from Louis’ tongue, so he immediately inserts a second, eyebrows furrowing together in concentration.

“Suppose I’ve noticed, yeah,” Louis says, his lips twitching. He settles his hands on Harry’s hips, rubbing his thumbs into his hipbones. He plays with the hem of the shirt and opens another button, watching as it slides down and falls off one of his shoulders.

Sometimes, Louis can’t believe his luck, how he managed to score Harry all for himself, but he’s never been more grateful for it than he is right in this moment. 

“‘m ready,” Harry announces and Louis’ head snaps up, looking at Harry’s legs bracketing his waist.

“Go on, then,” Louis says smugly and waits until Harry sinks down on his cock. He goes frustratingly slow, relaxing around Louis slower than he normally would, but Louis supposes he’s deserved that. He told Harry to take it, after all - he’s just meant to sit back and watch as Harry works himself to an orgasm.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Harry heaves out with a shudder when he’s fully seated in Louis’ lap. It’s good that he’s come already, Louis thinks, or else he’d be shooting right into Harry right now, unable to help himself. He’s so hot like this, shirt flowing around him but exposing just enough skin to be obscene. As Harry starts lifting himself up, Louis surges forward and attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, enjoying the way the few stray strands of hair tickle his face as he’s lifting himself up and down. He slides a hand up his shirt, splays it flat against the swell of his stomach. He traces the butterfly with his fingers, tickling lightly, and Harry moans, easing himself up and down in a rhythm now.

“Harder, Louis, please,” he groans, and as much as it wasn’t the deal, Louis can’t help but snap his hips up, hitting Harry’s prostate dead-on the way only he knows how.

“Shit, yeah, right there,” Harry moans again and his eyes close, bobbing up and down on Louis’ cock. Louis moves along with him and now that they’ve found a rhythm, he can feel his second orgasm creep up on him slowly. He opens up the last button of the shirt and latches his mouth onto Harry’s nipple, tugging on it with his teeth.

“Come on Haz, come for me,” he mumbles against his chest, panting with it. The bed starts squeaking and Harry’s getting increasingly louder, loud whimpers falling from his lips and filling the room as he works himself down on Louis’ cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin gets more prominent and Louis can tell that Harry is close by the way his thighs are trembling, a tell tale sign that it’s not going to take long.

“I’m so _close, ah, shit,”_ Harry near-sobs, head falling forward. Louis grins and strengthens his grip on Harry’s hips, snapping up into him as hard and fast as he can. He hears nothing over the ringing in his ears and Harry’s moans, getting completely lost in the sensation. He grabs Harry’s hands and links them behind his own back, making Louis the only remaining force that’s holding Harry upright. Harry’s body goes rigid at that, staring down at Louis wide-eyed, and Louis grins, winking at him before he pushes him down on his cock, burying himself as deep in Harry’s arse as he can. 

“Uhn, _fuck,”_ Harry cries out as he clenches around him, shooting up so hard that a drop of come hits his chin. It’s so all-consumingly hot that Louis can’t hold back anymore, following right after him and spilling inside Harry. They stay there for a minute, panting it out against each other’s mouths as Louis pulls out of him, wincing at the cold air of the room that hits his softening cock.

Louis’ hands travels up to the shirt and finally, _finally_ slides it off of Harry until he’s completely left naked. In response, Harry drapes himself over Louis and pushes against him until he falls back against the pillows.

“Don’t wanna move,” Harry complains, nose rubbing against Louis’ Adam’s apple. Louis lets his hands go up to Harry’s bun, playing with the elastic until his hair drapes across his face like it’s meant to be doing all this time, and smiles up at him softly.

“Then we don’t,” he shrugs. He grabs the comforter and drapes it around the two of them. Knowing that he’ll be disgusting in the morning is fine with him - he isn’t the one who has to do the beds, after all. It’s a hotel for a reason, isn’t it?

“You’re disgusting,” Harry informs him. Normally, he’d probably try harder, tell Louis it’s rude to leave it to housekeeping no matter where they are, but he’s sleepy already, exhausted with their efforts. Louis thinks that he should probably look deeper into it, see when someone goes into subspace, but he doesn’t think this is it. If anything happened tonight, it was just that Harry came a lot harder than he usually does, and isn’t that something fun to explore?

Louis cuddles up to Harry, throwing an arm around his middle and pulling him closer until he’s fit snugly against Louis’ front. They’re both just seconds away from falling asleep until Harry jolts, digging into Louis’ stomach with his elbow.

“What the fuck?” Louis gasps, rubbing his face against Harry’s naked back in pain.

“We need to set an alarm,” Harry sputters, words slipping out of his mouth even slower than they normally do, “I have to get papped at Go Greek tomorrow, ‘member?”

“Shit, right,” Louis groans and he blindly reaches behind him for his phone. As he unlocks it, it automatically opens to his recent calls and he stops in his tracks, staring at the screen.

Zayn is on top of the list.

“Did you call Zayn with my phone?” Louis asks, dumbfounded. He’s suddenly very much awake. Harry doesn’t bother to roll over, just looks back at Louis with one eye open, a thin layer of sweat still glistening on his forehead. He blinks at Louis tiredly.

“No? Why would I?” He closes his eyes again, wiggling his arse a little until he’s comfortable again. The next thing Louis knows, Harry is fast asleep, snoring into the pillow. He can’t stop the smile that takes over his face, fondly looking at his boyfriend taking deep, steady breaths.

It quickly makes way for a frown as his gaze moves back to his phone. The thumb of his right hand hesitantly hovers over the screen, waiting to press the call button. Fuck it. Probably wasn’t that bad in the first place. He can ask him about it. He _can._

“What now?” is the first thing Zayn says as he picks up the phone. It’s still somewhat disorienting, hearing Zayn’s voice after not hearing it every day, especially after he’s just made Harry come so hard he fell asleep almost instantly. This used to be a regular occurrence, but it’s just a reminder to Louis now, how everything is _different_ and just-not-right.

“Did we speak on the phone earlier?” Louis asks abruptly, not even trying to mask the confusion in his voice. It remains quiet on the other line a tad too long, tension filling the air. He’s not sure that either of them has forgiven the other for the way things had blown up in their faces after that unfaithful day in March. They’re on shaky grounds, to say the least.

“Speak is too broad of a term,” Zayn grumbles finally. Louis doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, knowing something else is coming. He’s right, of course: “You literally butt-dialed me during sex, Louis. _Again.”_

Oh… Oh, _god._ The bathroom. At the club. Jesus Christ. A fit of giggles is about to escape his mouth and he can’t have that, but it’s just so fucking _funny._ Zayn, of all people, who in his five years in the band had already seen way too much and thought he’d escaped it, finally - 

“FYI, Lou, this is exactly why I left the band,” Zayn’s tinny voice complains and at that, Louis breaks, wheezing into the phone as laughter overtakes him. He can hear chuckles on the other end of the line as well, and it’s nice, is what it is, to finally be laugh with Zayn without it being awkward, even if the joke hits a bit too close to home for him to fully appreciate it. Beside him, Harry doesn’t even stir, too exhausted by their session to realize that anything is going on, and strangely, Louis is grateful for it.

“I’m sorry, Z,” Louis manages to gasp out as finally manages to quiet down, “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Isn’t it always?” Zayn replies darkly and it’s almost enough to set Louis off again, but Zayn continues before Louis can get further into it. “Hey, I gotta jet, but give Nialler a hug for me, yeah? I tried to ring him earlier, but he didn’t answer.”

If he sounds a bit subdued at that, Louis doesn’t mention it.

“He’s probably balls deep in some bird, I reckon he’ll text you tomorrow,” Louis says, still chuckling, and then the laughter dies down in his throat as he croaks out, “Love you, Z.”

“Love ya too, lil’ shit,” Zayn murmurs and he sounds a bit choked up, though it’s possible that’s wishful thinking on Louis’ part. He hangs up before Louis can try to ask about it, which confirms his suspicions even more, but alas. It’s the first time they’ve had a civil conversation since March. They’re allowed to cry over it a bit.

Louis quickly sets the alarm (Harry would have his head if he forgot) and turns off the lamp. He snuggles up to Harry again, settling in the bed, and sighs in contentment. It doesn’t even matter that Harry’s supposed to get out of bed and off to LA in less than four hours, or that he’s going to have the hangover of the century when he wakes up. Right now, he’s boneless and satisfied.

The headscarves are still burning a hole in his brain, though.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to ignore Liam the way I did, but I'm still a bit cross with him so he's featured in this, but not as much as he should be. Welp, what can you do.
> 
> Completely by accident (ahem) this turned into me desperately wanting to write daddy!Louis, so I've decided to turn this into a series where I can explore that later. Stay tuned. (I'm also very new to it, so don't kill me if I fuck it up).
> 
> Also, come say hi on [Tumblr](http://loveloveolivia.tumblr.com)!


End file.
